


Spoons

by gaylttletoad



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Bisexual Mako, M/M, gay wu, mako is bad with feelings, mentions of korra and asami, set between book 3 and 4, there are no cop characters, this was totally a date night and mako did not realise until too late, wuko is canon you can't change my mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27826204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaylttletoad/pseuds/gaylttletoad
Summary: Wu takes his bodyguard out for a nice, friendly, platonic dinner. Or so Mako thought.Mako has no idea what he's doing or how he's feeling and Wu is concerned for his friend's health because he keeps spacing out while Wu's trying to eat his noodles.
Relationships: Mako - Relationship, Mako/Prince Wu (Avatar)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 112





	Spoons

Mako glares down at the row of spoons laying neatly in a row next to his soup. Why- why in the spirits were there so many? Seriously, there were four of them, each of varying shapes and.. uh.. spoon.. depth? Spoon shape? His fingers hover above the first one nervously. It seems relatively spoon-like, similar to something he’d use at home, and he goes to pick it up. 

Opposite him, Wu sucks in air through his teeth. Mako sighs. 

He moves his hand over to the next one.

This one is smaller, and has odd little grooves at the tip, and Mako is completely lost as to what kind of purpose it could serve. 

Again, Wu looks at him weirdly. 

“Hey buddy,” Mako grimaces. “Wrong spoon.” Wu says with a wink, green eyes glinting alongside the flickering candle sitting delicately in between the two men.

Mako stifles his frustrated groan before it slips out. Sliding his fingers across to the next spoon, (this one is the largest of the four? And pointy. Why does a spoon need to be pointy?) he makes a grab for it. Surely this one has to be the correct one, right? He has a one in two chance here- either he can be totally correct and prove to Wu that he’s not a complete slob, or he can choose the wrong spoon and be forced into a lifetime of mockery.

Locking eyes with the slender man opposite him, he goes to pick up the third spoon.

Wu shakes his head, suppressing a smile.

Mako growls. Quietly, sure, but still- it’s definitely audible and he knows Wu heard it and Mako is tempted to stand up, go over to the kitchen and plunge his entire head into a steaming vat of broth. 

Wu looks taken aback.

“Did.. Did you just growl at me?” Mako has his head in his hands now, slowly trying his best to slide out of the plush chair and through the very expensive carpet beneath their feet.

“No.?” he says, voice muffled by his palm. Wu glares at him, half mocking, half accusing. And then it shifts. 

Is Wu.. blushing? Mako raises an eyebrow- or at least he would if his face wasn’t still being crushed by his hands. There is definitely a delicate flush staining the smaller man’s face, probably matching the one marring his own face. All of a sudden, a sharp curling sensation swipes through Mako’s gut. Fuck. He can’t tell if it's hunger, or something else. Mako has spent his fair share of time being hungry, and this definitely doesn't feel the way hunger does.

Mako was aware that he was interested in men. He always kept that part of him hidden carefully under lock and key, just like al the other thoughts he had that could make him seem vulnerable. He’d been aware of it those times with Hasook- those stolen, angry kisses they’d shared in the pro-bending changing rooms after hours when they thought no one was looking.  
He had been aware of it in Zaofu, when he’d seen that cute guard with the nice hair and the pretty smile and the twinkling eyes. 

Suddenly, Mako is aware of the fact that he’s been sat there looking vaguely concerned for probably too long than what was considered socially acceptable by Wu waving a bony hand in front of his face. 

Wu grins. “Earth to Mako,” he says, one eyebrow flicking up in a way that made Mako feel even weirder. 

It felt new, vulnerable, raw- three things that Mako rarely felt. Detaching himself from his emotions was safe. Comfortable. There is nothing safer than the feeling of emptiness, and what confuses Mako the most is the sudden realisation that he doesn’t want to feel that emptiness around Wu.

He feels even weirder when Wu pokes a finger at his nose, causing it to scrunch up like it does when Mako is angry, or those rare occasions where he feels happy enough to laugh. 

“Did you just,” he splutters, “Boop my nose?”

Wu freezes, index finger left trembling in mid air. They sit there in silence for a few seconds, before Wu cracks. All of a sudden, he’s shaking with laughter. There are tears streaming down his face and all that seems to be coming out of his mouth is hot air and a strange wheezing noise that sounds like someone’s blowing too hard into some kind of brass instrument. In fact, the trombone player over on the stand in the centre of the restaurant looks at their instrument with deep concern, and clutches it to their chest like they’re afraid of it running away.

“You- you,” Wu is trembling now. “Boop- you j- you just,”

Mako is star struck, and he has no idea why. Maybe it’s how carefree and genuinely delighted the prince looks, or maybe it’s how his immaculately coiffed hair has started to come loose and curl over his brow. Maybe it’s the soft edges of his eyes crinkling as he continues to giggle uncontrollably, or the splattering of freckles that Mako has never noticed before and now can’t rip his eyes away from.

He is well aware of how unprofessional he is being- he’s meant to be protecting Wu, not causing him to suffer from a breakdown in the middle of one of the most expensive restaurants in Republic City.

He hasn’t felt like this in years- spirits it had been years, hadn’t it? Korra was gone, so was Bolin, and Asami. No one had time any for him now and deep down he hates this fact. He knows that it's selfish of him to hate it. He knows that he doesn’t deserve anyone’s time. He has nothing to offer anymore. Nothing to offer except his services to Wu.

Wu has gone silent. His eyes are curious, watching Mako’s thoughts flit by, cheeks flushed and eyebrows curved. 

Mako stares back, emotion threatening to bubble up through the protective layer he’d spent so many years building up. The knot in his throat hadn’t made an appearance like this since Korra. 

Korra- who he’d loved so much. Korra- one of the only people to truly care about him and Bolin in nearly ten years. And here he was, dry mouthed and overwhelmed, thinking about the prince of the earth kingdom. The prince, might he add, he was supposed to be protecting with his own life.

He gulps, still looking into Wu’s eyes- which are definitely a lot greener than he remembers. 

The one problem with Mako’s tried and true method of repressing every single emotion he came into contact with was that he is absolutely clueless as to how long he’s been feeling like this.

He had hated Wu: he was spoiled, bratty, obnoxious, and had the tendency to stick out his bottom lip and cross his arms until Mako bent down and tied his shoelaces for him.

But.. Did he hate Wu? He didn’t think so, not anymore at least. In fact, he thought of Wu as a friend. Which was an odd thought, and nearly a comforting one. Until a few years ago his only friend was his little brother. Then Korra, and Asami, and even the surly Lin Beifong, the foreboding head of the company that employed him as Wu’s bodyguard and eldest daughter of local legend Toph Beifong. 

“Are you okay?” whispers Wu, startling Mako. “I just- you’ve been sitting there for a long time, Mako.” 

“I’m fine.” Mako’s throat is dry, and he reaches out a hand to grasp at the jug of water on the table next to him. The food has long gone cold, and the spoons lie next to his bowl, long forgotten about. The only things he's aware of are Wu’s concerned eyes meeting his own, the cool glass of the pitcher against his fingers, and the feeling of Wu’s foot brushing against his ankle. Mako is incredibly aware of that last one, and he makes the point of not moving his leg away. 

They spend the rest of their meal like that. 

Wu continues to contentedly chat away, Mako occasionally offering a smile or a contentious eye roll, their ankles ever so slightly making contact.

The soup is cold and the spoons are confusing, but for an hour of his life, Mako feels warm.

**Author's Note:**

> HELP i've never written a fic before so there is no plot and its just me experimenting with writing and dialogue because i have no idea what i'm doing!! if anyone ever reads this ily :D


End file.
